


The Strongest Stars

by heartequals (savvygambols)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Times, Growing Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 19:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvygambols/pseuds/heartequals
Summary: 5 first times and 1 single moment in the shared lives of Baze and Chirrut.





	The Strongest Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raehimura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raehimura/gifts).



> Written for raehimura for the dailyspiritassassin summer 2017 fanwork exchange. raehimura, I hope I did your love of Baze and Chirrut justice! Thank you to peardita for the beta.
> 
> For those with emetophobia, there is a brief reference to a character throwing up in the second part of the story.

**First Impressions of The Temple of the Kyber...and of Chirrut’s Aim**

Initiate Malbus’ first impressions of the Temple of the Kyber were of awe. There was so much to see in the Temple, far more than he had ever seen from the outside: the many comfortable classrooms for study for Disciples, pilgrims, Initiates and Guardians alike; a library packed to the ceiling with scrolls made of actual parchment; the dojos where Initiates and Guardians trained in various martial arts; the high-ceilinged halls for prayer; the catacombs filled with tributes to Disciples and Guardians long past; and of course, at the very heart of the temple, rooms and rooms filled thousands upon thousands of kyber crystals that sang when the temple paused for morning, afternoon, and evening prayer.

Even the hallways between buildings, worn from the footsteps of thousands of pilgrims, Disciples, Initiates and Guardians, impressed him. Not because the hallways looked particularly impressive, but because they had history. The whole temple had history and Baze was struck with an immense sense of wonder that he, too, would now be part of it.

He was also struck in the face with a pillow when the Guardian escorting him around the grounds of the Temple opened the door to the dorm he would share with five other male initiates.

“Oh gods,” said the initiate standing two beds away, hands halfway in the air. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry!”

“Initiate Îmwe,” said Guardian Ng. “Why are you throwing a pillow at the door?”

“I thought it would be Initiate Doai’i! He said he was coming back soon and I wanted to surprise him.”

“With a pillow to the face?”

“Well,” said Initiate Îmwe. “Um. Yes.”

Guardian Ng shook his head. “Initiate Malbus, this is one of your roommates. Initiate Îmwe, show Initiate Malbus around your dorm and then go run the temple grounds three times.”

“Yes, Guardian Ng,” said Initiate Îmwe, hanging his head.

“Then come back here and show Initiate Malbus to the refectory for supper. In fact, I want you to be Initiate Malbus’ guide for his first week here. You won’t be in the same classes but you have the same schedule.”

Initiate Îmwe looked at Baze curiously. Interested in him, Baze thought. Baze was a little older than most initiates, but not by much, only a couple of years. Initiate Îmwe was the same age as him, but he’d clearly been in the temple longer.

Guardian Ng gave Baze a little push into the room. “Go on, Initiate Malbus. I’ll see you at evening prayers - come find me and I will teach you how to pray.”

Guardian Ng shut the door behind him. Baze stood in front of Initiate Îmwe uncomfortably.

“Hello, Initiate Îmwe,” he said.

“I’m Chirrut,” said Initiate Îmwe. “Titles are only for Guardians. In here, I’m just Chirrut.”

“Oh,” said Baze. “I’m Baze.” He held out his hand. Chirrut shuffled forward and grasped his hand.

It was only then that Baze noticed he was blind. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything.

“I know what you are thinking,” said Chirrut, still holding his hand. “You are wondering, ‘how can this blind boy tell where the door is? How can this blind boy know where to throw a pillow with such deadly accuracy?’ Did I hit you in the face? Or the chest? It sounded like the face.”

“Yes,” said Baze. “You hit me in the face. How did you know where to throw the pillow?”

“I just have to listen,” said Chirrut. “Also, I’ve walked into every wall in this room. I know exactly where everything is. Come, I will show you where you will sleep.” He took the pillow from Baze and, still holding his hand, pulled him to an empty bed. “Junye used to sleep here but now she sleeps in the girl’s dormitory. It’s good that you’re here; the pillow fights will be more evenly balanced.” He pointed at the small bed stand. “You can put your things in there, if you have any. Your robes go in the closet over there, but you have to share with Damaen and Sun so don’t get mixed them up. Sometimes I get mixed up with Fi’ionn and Hyrri. All of our clothes look the same and we’re all the same height. Well, you seem taller than me, but only a little.”

He was still holding Baze’s hand. Baze wondered if he should let go.

“Can I touch your face?” Chirrut asked.

“Why?” Baze asked.

“So I know what you look like, of course. Otherwise you are just a voice.”

Baze let go of Chirrut’s hand. “I guess so. I mean, yes.”

Chirrut reached out and touched Baze’s face, fingers tracing every part of his face. Baze was uncomfortable with the realization that he was still dusty from his tour of the catacombs.

“Good,” said Chirrut. “Good, now I know what you look like.” He cocked his head. “Oh, here comes Fi’ionn. Stand back.”

Baze sat down on the bed and watched as Chirrut assumed a battle stance, pillow in hand. The door opened and Chirrut launched a pillow at the person standing in the door.

It was Guardian Ng, who caught the pillow before it hit him in the face. “Go run the temple six times,” he said to Chirrut.

“Yes, Guardian Ng,” said Chirrut. He picked up a staff on his way out of the door.

“I thought he’d be up to some trouble,” said Guardian Ng. “I see I wasn’t wrong.”

“He was just showing me my bed,” said Baze, compelled to defend his new roommate.

“And preparing to hit people in the face.” Guardian Ng sighed. “Initiate Îmwe has been at the temple longer than any other initiate. He was left here as a baby. He thinks he runs the place. Don’t let his over-familiarity with the halls of the Temple distract you from your studies. You are here to train as a Guardian, not get into pillow fights.”

“I won’t get distracted,” promised Baze. “I’ve wanted to be here my whole life.”

“Your whole life is all of 13 years old,” said Guardian Ng. “But you will be a great Guardian, Initiate Malbus, I can already tell.”

“Thank you,” said Baze. “I will try.”

“You will do,” said Guardian Ng. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go see if Initiate Îmwe is actually running the grounds.”

;;

**The First Sparring That Ended In Complete and Total Disaster**

Chirrut and Baze were several years older now, less prone to pillow fights with their roommates and more evenly matched in the dojos. In the first year, Baze would be flat on his back on the mat with a staff at his throat every single time he was matched with Chirrut; right now, they were tied two for two. Baze gave Chirrut a hand up off the mat and they squared off again, ready to fight.

Chirrut grinned at Baze, wide and a little wild. Baze tried not to smile back, because such a smile meant he was going to get his ass kicked, but it was hard. Chirrut’s grins were infectious.

Some of the younger initiates gathered at the corners of the room, talking to each other excitedly, not-so-discreetly placing bets and trading credits. Guardian Tricae raised a hand. “Silence!” she called. “Initiate Îmwe, Initiate Malbus, on my mark. One. Two. Thr--”

Chirrut launched himself at Baze, staff spinning. Baze barely fended him off, yelling, “you didn’t wait for her to finish!”

“Don’t care! A Guardian is always on watch!” Chirrut missed Baze’s head by inches; Baze ducked and swung his staff at Chirrut’s knees.

Chirrut jumped a full foot in the air and swung back at Baze. Baze jumped backwards. “We’re not Guardians, we’re Initiates!”

“NEITHER GUARDIANS NOR INITIATES TALK WHILE SPARRING,” shouted Guardian Tricae.

Chirrut grinned and Baze grinned back. They rushed at each other, staffs smacking as they moved back and forth across the room.

Chirrut slammed his staff against Baze, forcing Baze’s staff back toward him, leaning closer and closer in an attempt to get him off balance. When their heads were almost touching, when they were practically sharing breath, Chirrut whispered, “would we be this evenly matched in bed?”

Baze was so surprised that he jerked his staff up, straight into Chirrut’s nose with a crunch. Chirrut, out of surprise or possibly pain, shoved Baze so fiercely that he slammed into the mat. Baze’s head hit the mat so hard he blacked out briefly and came to with the sound of young initiates shouting and Guardian Tricae yelling for someone to get a medic.

Baze sat up, rubbing the back of his head. Chirrut sat across from him, nose bleeding freely into a rag. He smiled at Baze. “I think we would.”

Baze said, “This is not related, but I think I am going to throw up. No offense.”

“No offense taken,” said Chirrut, right before Baze rolled over on his knees and coughed up his lunch.

Guardian Ng came into the dojo with the junior medic, who immediately knelt at Baze’s side with a cold compress. “Why is it always you two getting into trouble?” Guardian Ng asked.

When Baze was younger, he’d go with “Chirrut started it”. But he was older now and his throat burned with bile. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Guardian Ng sighed the sigh of a man who had been putting up with Baze and Chirrut getting into trouble together for five years.

“Go to the infirmary,” he said. “Initiate Îmwe, listen to Medic Dôm if they tell you to put bacta on your nose.”

“I will not have bacta on my face,” said Chirrut.

“Then you will be in pain,” said Guardian Ng.

“Good,” said Chirrut. He got to his feet, a little wobbly. The junior medic, Boyd, helped Baze to his feet and the three of them made their way unsteadily to the infirmary.

Medic Dôm was thrilled to see Baze and Chirrut in such sorry states. But they were always thrilled to see anyone in the infirmary; they got so few patients. Disciples, Initiates and Guardians were very careful not to injure themselves and pilgrims rarely found trouble within Temple walls.

“Good, good,” they said. “Sit.” They shoved Baze and Chirrut down on opposing hospital beds. “Medic Boyd, what happened?”

“They were sparring,” said Boyd. “I think Initiate Îmwe’s nose is broken. Initiate Malbus blacked out.”

Medic Dôm chuckled. “A concussion and a broken nose. How lucky am I!” 

Baze looked at Chirrut. Chirrut was trying not to laugh.

Medic Dôm took the bloody rag from Chirrut’s hand and peered at his nose. “Oh, your nose truly is broken,” they said, sounding delighted. “Boyd, get me two ice packs. Chirrut -- I don’t suppose you want a bacta injection to fix the bump in your nose.”

“No bacta.”

“Ah, well. I will have to straighten your nose the painful way.”

“Chirrut, don’t be a fool,” said Baze. “This will hurt so much--”

“No bacta on my face,” said Chirrut.

Boyd came back with two ice packs. “Boyd, put one of the icepacks on Baze’s head,” said Medic Dôm. “Baze, I will look at your head once I am done with this other hard headed boy. Chirrut, sit still.”

Medic Dôm was one of the few adults in the temple who called initiates by their first name. Baze liked that about them. It made them seem a little friendlier than the rest of the Guardians.

There was another crunch. Chirrut grunted.

“Now your nose will be straight,” said Medic Dôm. “Put this icepack on your nose. Baze!” They twirled around, robes swishing. “Let me see your head.”

Boyd took off the icepack and Medic Dôm peered at the back of Baze’s head, prodding where Baze’s head hit the mat. “Are you dizzy?”

“Not anymore.”

“But you did throw up,” said Medic Dôm. “Well! You are not bleeding and probably do not have brain damage.” They put their hands on their hips. “Baze, you will not train for three weeks. Chirrut, you will not train until the bruise on your nose heals.”

Baze and Chirrut broke out into twin voices of complaint. Medic Dôm laughed at them. “Too bad I am the head medic of the Temple and a senior Guardian,” they said. “Otherwise you could argue with me.”

Baze and Chirrut shut up immediately.

“I recommend prayer,” said Medic Dôm. “Prayer heals the soul. Some say the angels on Iago can heal their bodily injuries through the Force. Perhaps you can be the first two Initiates without Force sensitivity to achieve the same.” They smiled. “Come back in two days so I can check your injuries.”

Baze and Chirrut left the infirmary.

“This is your fault,” Baze told Chirrut. “If you hadn’t said...what you said, we would not be in this situation.”

“But Baze, you love to pray,” said Chirrut. “It’s your favorite thing after me.”

“I love to pray when I don’t have a bump on my head.” He sighed. “I love to pray when my head does not hurt.”

“Let’s go back to our room.” Chirrut’s smile was crooked, flirty.

“You go,” said Baze, after a short, cowardly silence. He couldn’t wrap his head around Chirrut’s words yet, let alone do anything about them. This, this he did need to pray about. “I am going to the heart of the temple. Maybe if I heard the crystals sing, my head will hurt less.”

“Your loss,” said Chirrut cheerfully. “See you at supper, Baze.”

;;

**The First Kiss That Did _Not_ End In Complete and Total Disaster**

It took three years of prayer and five interrupted attempts but Chirrut finally managed to talk Baze into walking through the catacombs with him one evening before shoving him against a centuries-old statue of a Disciple and kissing him solidly.

Baze panicked briefly before reconciling with himself that they were deep in the catacombs and no one could see, or even find, them. He pulled Chirrut close and kissed him until they were both gasping. Chirrut let go of the front of his robes and stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall. He looked obscenely pleased with himself. Baze’s heart was racing.

“Thank the gods,” said Chirrut. “I’ve wanted to do that for seven years.”

“Do not make fun,” said Baze, running a hand through his hair. The gravity of what they had just done was starting to weigh on him. What had they just done?

“I am not,” said Chirrut. “I have wanted to kiss you ever since I met you.” He tilted his head. “You’re worried. No one can find us down here.”

“We’re not supposed to do what we just did,” said Baze.

“Who says?”

“Everyone knows the Guardians of the Whills are supposed to be chaste. We’re supposed to be like Jedi. Jedi are chaste.”

“Of all the things to worry about!” said Chirrut. “We are not Jedi. We are not even Guardians. We are Initiates.”

“Training to be Guardians!”

“But we aren’t yet,” said Chirrut. “Let’s kiss again.”

“I can’t do this,” said Baze. “I’ve wanted my whole life to be a Guardian. Haven’t you?”

“I never had a choice,” said Chirrut with a shrug.

“I care about you,” said Baze. “But we cannot do this again.”

Chirrut sighed. “Well, we did it once. I suppose I can live with that.”

“Thank you,” said Baze.

“How much do you care about me?” Chirrut asked, placing his hand on Baze’s arm as they walked back through the catacombs.

“Greatly. I care about you greatly.”

“Measure it. As much as the Force or more? As much as a kyber crystal or more?”

“More than a kyber crystal,” said Baze, because the other first was unknowable and unthinkable. At least the kyber crystals sang when he prayed to them.

Chirrut made a pleased noise. “Good.”

They had almost reached the mouth of the catacombs before Baze managed to ask, “and do you care about me?”

“I do,” said Chirrut, but Baze could not ask him to measure it because they were above ground again.

But Baze’s thoughts were traitorous and his dreams even worse. Not even two weeks passed before he was the one to ask Chirrut to accompany him to catacombs to pray to the former Guardians for guidance. This time, he was the one to shove Chirrut against a wall and kiss him.

“I thought we couldn’t do this,” said Chirrut, when Baze let go of his robes.

“We can’t,” said Baze. “What has gotten into me?”

Chirrut smiled.

First it was every two weeks, then once a week, then every other day, then Baze was running out of excuses to tell Guardian Ng why he and Chirrut were “exploring the catacombs” so often.

“Mind you do not get lost down there,” said Guardian Ng. “There is no straight path from the end to the entrance.”

“The paths are full of history,” said Baze, “no matter what way we take.”

“I never knew you and Initiate Îmwe had such a mind for history,” said Guardian Ng. “It’s dark down there.”

“Sometimes it is easier to pray in the dark,” said Baze. “Sometimes, history is found in the dark.”

Guardian Ng smiled, a rare thing. “You will be a great Guardian,” he said.

“And Initiate Îmwe?” asked Baze.

“Perhaps,” said Guardian Ng. “Perhaps.”

Baze could not help the smile on his face.

“Though I sometimes wonder: how can the dark help a blind man to pray?” mused Guardian Ng. “Take care, Initiate Malbus.” He walked away.

Baze raced off to find Chirrut.

;;

**The First Time Chirrut and Baze Shared A Bed**

Baze was delirious with joy, and hunger, as he walked through the halls of the Temple. He had done it. He had passed the trials -- and communed with The Force. Years of Guardian training had led him through the physical hardship of running up one of Jedha’s remote mountains and training with Guardian Offa at the top for a week and a half without food. When Guardian Offa, by far the strictest of the Guardians when it came to physical punishment, pronounced him “good, now go home”, he had fallen to his knees in relief. The Force touched him, swirled around him for the longest moment, lifting him up, filling him with peace. He’d run all the way down the mountain on the Force’s grace and back through the desert, back to the Temple.

Though it was past midnight, Guardian Ng had met him at the gate. “Good,” he said. “Congratulations.”

Baze was too hungry and tired at that point to do anything more than smile.

“You will receive your schedule tomorrow,” said Guardian Ng. “You will also be assigned new quarters too.”

Baze nodded.

“Go,” said Guardian Ng. “The refectory is closed, but I believe your roommates have snacks waiting for you.”

And so it was that Baze was walking, very quickly, through the halls of the Temple to his dorm. He had done it. Fifteen years of training. He was a Guardian now.

He opened the door to his dorm and was promptly hit in the face with a pillow.

“Chirrut!” he yelled.

Chirrut cackled and threw another pillow. This one Baze did catch, because he was a Guardian, and Guardians caught pillows.

Baze walked into the dorm and shut the door behind him. Chirrut, the last remaining Initiate of their dorm, had a full cake on the bed in front of him. Damaen and Sun and Fi’ionn and Hyrri, full Guardians themselves, clapped from their positions on their old beds. 

“Congratulations, man.”

“Only a week and a half too! Took me three whole weeks to please that old bat. Remember? I nearly died. You beat me by half.”

“Maybe you’ll get to work a shift with me and Sun!”

“Come,” said Chirrut, smiling broadly. “We must eat this cake that I stole.”

The men gathered around the cake and dug in. It was a ritual now, the six of them gathering after one of them passed the trials over a cake that Chirrut stole from the refectory.

“How do you steal cakes anyway?” Hyrri asked, mouth full of cake. “I mean, you’re blind and people pay attention to you. How do you just walk out with a cake?”

“I suspect no one wants to accuse a blind man of stealing,” said Chirrut. “Also, I go just before closing, when no one is around.”

The men all laughed at that. Chirrut smiled triumphantly.

The cake was gone quickly and Baze’s former dormmates were gone shortly after, three of them having guard duty the next day and the other assigned morning exercises for the youngest initiates. Sun was nice enough to take the plates and the forks away, leaving Chirrut with no responsibilities the next day.

Baze leaned back on his bed with a contented sigh. Chirrut laughed at him. “Happy?”

“I felt the Force,” he said. “I ran across the desert with it.”

“Good,” said Chirrut. “It’s about time.”

“It’s more beautiful than you described,” said Baze. “More comforting too.” Though he no longer felt it, at the moment. But he was very tired. It would come back.

“Yes,” said Chirrut. He tucked his chin down, smiling. He was already in his bedclothes and looked pleased with himself. He blew out his lamp and lay down. The room was half darkness now. “Yes, I knew you could do it.” He rolled over on his side, pulling his blanket over his body. “You should wash,” he said over his shoulder. “And then sleep.”

“Yes,” said Baze. He sat up, though his entire body protested the movement. “Good night, Chirrut.”

“Good night, Baze.”

Deep into the night, after Baze had washed and fallen asleep, he woke to hear Chirrut mumbling to himself.

“No,” said Chirrut. “Not him. Please, not him.”

“Chirrut?”

“Not him too!” said Chirrut. Baze realized he was still asleep. Chirrut had never talked in his sleep before. He was disturbed by the roughness and the pain in his friend’s voice. He sat up. “Chirrut!”

“Please,” begged Chirrut. “Please! Not him too!”

Baze got out of bed and made his way into the dark to Chirrut’s bed. He touched Chirrut’s shoulder. Chirrut jerked awake with a half-shout.

“What is going on?” said Chirrut.

“You were talking in your sleep,” said Baze.

“Oh,” said Chirrut.

“What were you dreaming about?”

“It’s not important,” said Chirrut. “Go back to bed. I am sorry that I woke you.”

Baze sat down on Chirrut’s bed. “You can tell me.”

“I told you, it’s not important.”

Baze sat for a little while longer. Chirrut lay next to him, stiff as a board, eyes staring sightless at the ceiling above. Baze finally stood up, yanked his pillow and blanket off his bed, and came back to Chirrut’s bed. He shoved Chirrut’s shoulder. “Move over.”

“What?”

“This is the last night I sleep here,” said Baze. “I want to sleep next to you.”

“We are too big.”

“Move.”

Chirrut rolled over on his side, pulling the blanket against him. Baze shoved his pillow next to Chirrut’s and lay down next to him. It was tight but when he draped an arm over Chirrut’s chest, they fit. He had grown bigger in the past few years but Chirrut had stayed slim and shorter than him by several centimeters. They fit.

“I cannot promise not to talk in my sleep again,” said Chirrut.

“I don’t mind,” said Baze. He pressed his head against Chirrut’s briefly, before leaning back and falling asleep.

He woke just at sunrise, light filling the room with shades Chirrut had forgotten to close. It was not the light that woke him though, but a deep sense of tenderness and grace. Chirrut still lay with his back against Baze’s, breathing deeply and evenly. Baze closed his eyes and let the Force flow through him. Or rather it swept, not through him, but around them, together, over and around them. He felt a peace he’d never known before. He angled his head until his forehead touched the crown of Chirrut’s head. He could feel it - the Force around them, stronger than he’d felt before. Stronger than what he had felt in the mountains. Stronger than anything he’d ever known.

“Baze,” whispered Chirrut. “Do you feel it?”

“Yes,” Baze whispered back.

Chirrut took Baze’s hand and kissed it. “Good.”

They lay together in perfect stillness until the morning bells rang and the Force slipped from them. But it would not be gone long. Baze was sure of it.

;;

**The First Time Baze and Chirrut Said “I Love You”**

Baze and Chirrut were stargazing on the roof. Or rather, Baze was describing the Imperial ships flying from Jedha spaceports to the Imperial star cruiser above to Chirrut, who sat perfectly still with his staff across his lap.

“Do you remember Guardian Offa?” Chirrut interrupted in the middle of Baze’s colorful description of another hell-damned Imperial shuttle taking off with stolen kyber.

“She nearly killed me,” said Baze. “That is what I remember.”

Chirrut smiled. “She nearly killed all of us. That was her duty as Guardian.”

“I don’t see why she had to throw rocks,” said Baze.

“You got rocks?” said Chirrut, offended. “She threw a whole log at me.”

Baze tipped his head back. “You were more trouble than me. You always were.”

“That is not true.”

“Who started the pillow fights? Who gave me a concussion? Who stole a cake and threw it across the interior courtyard to test Sun’s reflexes?”

“Yes, but you broke my nose and stood guard when I stole the cake.”

“You are a bad influence,” Baze informed him. “I am not glad that the Temple is gone, but I am glad you are no longer able to steal cakes.”

“I am an honest man now,” said Chirrut. Baze snorted. They sat in silence. Baze watched shuttle after shuttle take off and hated every single one.

“Baze,” said Chirrut. “You must not let hate cloud your heart.”

“My heart is not clouded with hate.”

“It is. I know it is.”

“They ruined our home, they put hundreds of Guardians, Disciples, and Initiates on the streets of Jedha, they are taking our kyber. They are destroying our city. I am angry. My heart has nothing to do with it.”

“Do you know what Guardian Offa said to me when I passed her last test?” Chirrut asked.

“Go home, you damn nuisance?”

“No. Well, yes. But before that she told me that the only way I could get home through the coming sandstorm was with love and a clear heart.”

“Guardian Offa was wrong about that,” said Baze. “I remember when you came home. You had to spend a week in the infirmary with Medic Dôm while you coughed up sand. Only you would be foolish enough to try to get through a sandstorm.”

“No, only I was strong enough to take her advice. I made it through that sandstorm because my heart was clear. I made it through the sandstorm because I had love in my heart.” Chirrut poked Baze in the side with his staff. “Baze.”

“What.”

“Baze, listen to me.”

“I am listening to you.” Baze watched another shuttle lift off. It was full of kyber and it made him furious.

“You are focusing on the wrong thing.”

Baze turned his whole body so that he faced Chirrut. “What is it, Chirrut?”

“Do you still care for me?”

“Yes, or I would not put up with you every day.”

“How much do you care for me? More or less than the Force? More or less than kyber?”

“You know I do not believe in the Force anymore. Obviously I care about you more than that.”

“More or less than kyber?”

“Why do you ask me?”

“Years ago you said that you cared for more than a kyber crystal. Is that still true?”

Baze hesitated, because this was dangerous territory. It had taken months for Chirrut to forgive him when he’d stopped believing, stopped calling himself a Guardian, given up on the temple, given up on prayers and the Force. They had never discussed their teenage crushes since.

But Kyber crystals had remained the one thing Baze had never really wanted to stop protecting. Chirrut knew this.

“Yes,” he said finally. The memory of kneeling at Chirrut’s side in the innermost chamber during evening prayers came to him. Surrounded by singing kyber, the beatific look on Chirrut’s face as they prayed, the room lit only by torches; it was a precious memory, one he had not thought about in a long time. He looked at Chirrut, really looked at him. Chirrut had an expression on his face that made him look peaceful. Baze did not believe him for a second. If Baze’s heart was racing, then Chirrut was about to jump out of his skin.

“You would choose me over a temple of kyber crystals.”

“I already have.”

Chirrut said, “When I ran through the sandstorm, I thought only of you.”

They had not kissed since they were Initiates. It was odd for Baze to press a hand against Chirrut’s neck and pull him in but when their lips touched, they fit. It was a brief, chaste kiss. Chirrut smiled as he pulled away. “Your beard scratches.”

“If you think I am going to shave it just so you can keep kissing me, you are wrong.”

“Oh no, you should shave it because it makes your face round.”

“My face is already round. A beard does not change that.”

Chirrut put up his hands. Baze caught them. “Do you know what Guardian Offa told me?” Baze asked.

“Good, now go home?”

“Before that. She told me, the strongest stars have hearts of kyber. I believed her at the time.”

“Do you believe her now?”

“I don’t know. I have no reason not to; I have not seen the heart of a star.”

“The Force moves brightly around people who love me,” said Chirrut. “You are the brightest of all. I believe you have a heart of kyber.”

Baze rubbed his thumbs across Chirrut’s knuckles. “I believe I have a heart like yours,” he said to Chirrut. “My heart lives.”

“But does your heart sing?”

“No. My heart beats, just like yours.”

Chirrut hummed. Baze brought Chirrut’s hands up to his mouth and kissed them. 

“You are stubborn in your disbelief and frustrating in your anger,” said Chirrut. “And so I love you.”

Baze was not surprised. Nor was he surprised by his own response. “You are reckless with your life and maddening in your hope,” he said. “And so I love you too.”

Chirrut took his hands away from Baze’s and touched Baze’s face. “Yes,” he murmured, feeling the corners of Baze’s mouth, the creases around his eyes. “Yes, this is good.”

This is enough, thought Baze. If the city crumbles, this moment will be enough.

;;

**The One and Only Time Chirrut Proposed To Baze**

Years later, they walked through the city, hearts light from the escape of Kaya and the orphans. Chirrut and Baze stopped at a stand selling little rolls filled with bean paste. Baze searched his pockets and came up with enough money for one. He split it in half with Chirrut and they walked on.

“Baze,” said Chirrut. “Do you still love me?”

“Would I split my roll with you if I didn’t?” said Baze. “If you doubt me, I want my half back.” He held out his hand, fingers touching Chirrut’s.

Chirrut moved his hand and took an obnoxiously big bite out of his half of the roll. They walked on, winding through the streets to avoid being followed, ducking their heads as they passed by stormtroopers. When they finally came to their home, it was sunset. Baze let Chirrut go in and locked the door to the stairs behind him. Chirrut stood at the top of the doorway, unmoving.

“Baze,” said Chirrut, standing in the doorway. “Will you marry me?”

Baze tried to angle around him but Chirrut blocked him. Baze sighed. “Why do you want to get married?”

“I want to know that I will always be yours.”

“You are already mine,” Baze said. He tried again to move around Chirrut.

Chirrut slammed his staff across Baze’s chest. He was making a statement rather than intending to immobilize Baze, Baze knew. “Marry me, Baze.”

“Why?”

“Do you know what Guardian Ng told me when the Temple fell?”

“No.”

“He told me to find you and stay with you until the Empire falls and the Temple can be rebuilt.”

“That,” said Baze, “is going to be a long time.”

“I think he wanted you to protect me.”

“You can protect yourself.”

“Yes, but you need protection too.” Chirrut closed his eyes and then opened them. He grinned at Baze. “You need me at your side.”

“You are already at my side. Too often by my side. Didn’t you want tea?”

“Baze!” said Chirrut. He shoved his staff a little harder against Baze’s chest. “A Disciple told me once that when we die, the spirit of our deceased beloved joins together with ours in the Force.”

Baze opened his mouth to refute any or possibly all parts of Chirrut’s statement, but Chirrut looked more determined than he had ever seen him.

Baze said, finally, “but you are already my beloved. Why would marriage change that?”

Chirrut dropped his staff from Baze’s chest and turned to go into the house. Baze followed. Chirrut settled on his bed mat, legs crossed, eyes closed. Baze took off all parts of his cannon and went into the kitchenette to make tea. Chirrut prayed while the water boiled.

When the tea was ready, Baze set the mugs on the counter and went to Chirrut’s side. “Chirrut,” he said. “What is worrying you?”

“We will die separated,” said Chirrut. “I have dreams about it. I have had dreams about it for years.” He folded his hands together. “I thought today that I would lose you for good.”

“With Kaya and the orphans?”

“Yes. And I would not begrudge you for going with them. But how would I ever find you again? I would never find you, not here, not anywhere in the galaxy, not in the Force.”

“Chirrut-”

“The Force does not follow laws,” said Chirrut. “The Force does not follow the commands of any living being. But-”

“You believe the Force would take our marriage into consideration?”

“The Force does not work like that. But I would find it deeply comforting if we were married.”

Baze considered this. If he were a Guardian, all of this talk of the Force would be logical. He was not a Guardian anymore though. The only thing that made sense to him was that he could provide Chirrut comfort. And comfort on Jedha was in short supply these days.

“Okay,” he said. He took Chirrut’s hands. “I will marry you. Not by an Imperial minister, but one of Jedha’s own.” He paused. “It may not be legal under the Empire, but it will be legal in our home.”

Chirrut’s grin was bright. Baze kissed his hands and Chirrut’s grin grew ever wider.

The tea had cooled and would grow only colder, but this did not matter to them.


End file.
